Want to win a free copy of my short story, Turned at Dark, along with the first three chapters of Born at Midnight, my Shadow Falls novel that releases March 29th, under my pen name C.C. Hunter? Do you want it really badly? Okay…You win! That’s right. Everyone wins. Turned at Dark is a free download at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Borders, and where ever e-books are available. You can also read it at Macmillan.

Independent and strong-willed Della Tsang hadn’t believed in ghosts until she saw her dead cousin darting into the shadows of an alley. She hadn’t believed in vampires until in the dark of that same night she is turned into one. Introduced to a strange world of supernaturals, she struggles to accept this new reality. Unfortunately, the boy she loves senses something different about her and can’t accept her. Should she follow her vampire cousin’s lead–walk away from everything she’s knows and loves—and fake her own death? Or should she set her pride aside and ask for help from the camp leader of Shadow Falls—a camp where supernaturals go to learn how to cope with their powers. Either way, her life as she knows it, will never be the same.

And now for my blog:

Last week, I had one of those experiences that reminded me how one misconstrued word and one wrong assumption can totally throw off a conversation and lead a person to making an idiot out of herself. Here’s what happened.

Okay…some of you know that my new series, Hotter In Texas, is set to release August 23rd. Yup, between writing two series, short stories, and guest blogs out the kazoot, I’ve been a busy, busy girl. So busy that I’ve started scheduling regular massages to help me relax. And that afternoon was my appointment to get my massage. Hey…it’s my reward for working so hard. But before I go to get my massage, I have chores to do. Some of you know that I’m basically a promo slut. I love finding perfect giveaways to offer as little prizes to my readers and booksellers. So after some brainstorming, my agent and I came up with the idea to buy some mini fans. Get it? Hotter in Texas and a mini fan? So . . . part of my morning chore was ordering said fans from the Internet. With that accomplished, I stepped out to do my daily hour walk, another thing that helps me relax.

When I returned, I went into my office to start producing pages. My email dinged and I saw I’d gotten a confirmation on my order of the fans. Right then Hubby stepped in the office and said, “Oh, you got a call. They can’t get the rubber you wanted.”

I look at the screen. I didn’t even know the fans had rubber in them, and then I look back at my husband. “But they confirmed everything.”

“Then I guess that’s why they called,” he said.

Mentally, I chewed on that for a few seconds and stared at the screen, then I stared back at hubby.

In a no-big deal tone he said, “They want you to call them back.”

I sat there, my brows pinched, trying to understand. “I didn’t ask for a special kind of rubber.”

“Then call them and tell them that,” he said.

“I don’t even know their phone number,” I said, feeling frustrated.

“Then get it off the caller ID,” he said and walked out.

I stared at the email for a few more seconds and decided to forego the call and just shoot them an email. I type out a quick message. “Did I miss something? I didn’t see where I was supposed to ask for a certain type of rubber? But any rubber will do as long it’s red. And not poison or something, just in case someone accidentally puts it in their mouth.”

With that taken care of I started to work on my pages. A little later, Hubby walked back in. “Did you get the number?”

“No,” I said. “I just shot them an email.” The puzzlement that I felt from before bubbled back up. “I still don’t understand what they want.”

He shrugged. “All they said was that you were going to get a different rubber. Your rubber is sick.”

“What?” I said. “My rubber is sick? What the hell does that mean?”

He shrugs again. “They didn’t say what was wrong with her.”

“Her?” I asked. My rubber has a gender?

He shrugged. “Yeah, the person you get to rub on you. She’s sick.”

“My masseuse?” I dropped my head on the desk. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I still haven’t gotten an answer from the fan people.

So . . . have you ever made an idiot out of yourself? Leave a post and I’ll send one person a red, Hotter in Texas fan. And don’t forget all of you are a winner today, so go download or read my short story and the first three chapters of Born at Midnight.

I am "not" surprised. I've shared the type of household I live in on your blog. Flash cards with words "spelled" on them is the only way to survive!:) Come to think of it, maybe it's simply a man/woman thing. Wouldn't have a clue...Downloading your freebie today! Can't wait to read it:)Lo

Being a "card carrying member of 'foot-in-mouth syndrome" myself, this made me laugh out loud. Thanks for this story and a good giggle today. If you send me a "rubber" make sure it is red and it works. Have a great day.

I once chaperoned a fifth-grade field trip to Sea World. When the guide asked if anyone had questions about the whale family, I asked how they prevented the whales from in-breeding. Really, I was afraid a whale might be born with two blowholes and drown itself or something. Little did I think before openeing my mouth that all of the kids would then want to know what "inbreeding" was. Oops. . . I wasn't invited on any field trips after that.

I swear, I don't go looking for these things. But I admit, I had my mind on the fans and so whatever he would have said probably would have confused me. But he had to find the one word that I could almost connect to the fans.

Between me and my husband it's the thought-you-said diease. I'll say something and he'll think I said something else (something outrageous) and vice versa. Reminds me of those "Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle" books and "The Thought-You-Said-Cure"

Hah! I do it all the time, and I'm getting worse at catching them! How about ordering a music box for your grandmother's 81'st birthday, only to find out that the melody it plays is, "Try To Remember", and she is already Alzheimer's phobic? Yes, that would be me!

The Crime

The authors of this blog are hereby charged with writing Killer Fiction novels responsible for spontaneous outbursts of laughter in public places, uncontrollable swooning over larger-than-life heroes, and the deaths of countless fictional villains.

The Evidence

Our Accomplices

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May 4thMina Khan